Both kids go to sleep on their own, in their own beds (still room-sharing with Daddy) but without mommy! It's amazing. I am no longer a part of their bedtime routine, nor are my boobs. YAY.
It's thrilling. I feel like a new person. I am a new person! A tired, stressed, person with chronic fatigue but a bed-time-free person nevertheless.
I did end up going to the doctor and they ran bloodwork and it all came back "normal" which actually made me very unhappy, because I thought it would give me answers. It did not. Apparently I am fine, except that I am exhausted all the time and can barely function. When I asked what our next step was, the doctor, instead of ordering more labs, diagnosed me on the spot with depression and sent me in a prescription for lexapro. Subsequently, the measly amount of good faith I had in medical doctors has diminished.
I am not depressed. I have no energy and feel fatigue all the time. I am tired all the time. Unless depression means "so tired I can't take care of my kids" and "am happy and look forward to spending time with my family but can't get up to make dinner, would rather sleep all day?" I don't think those things, or what I am experiencing, is depression. I know I had a miscarriage, and I am sad. I actually had a major depressive episode after my third miscarriage, 6 years ago--I know what that is like (at least, that one, perhaps depression can be different). I also understand I have anxiety and stress--but I feel there is something wrong with me, some hormone or other issue that is affecting my bodies ability to do what bodies are supposed to do. My mind is just stuck in my body and it's actually doing rather well, besides being frustrated over piles of dirty dishes and laundry and my inability to stand up for long.
A few days after I went to the doctor, I started feeling better. I'm not 100% yet, but my bar isn't at 0 any more. Whatever happened to me, due to the hormones of my miscarriage or other bodily ailment, it is getting better. And that is what I am going to seize upon. I'm on the mend, I hope. After six weeks of chronic fatigue, and two of those weeks where I was basically bedridden, I have a lot to do. Our routine is somewhere at the back of my mind, buried under a mountain of lapses. I have not knit in weeks and I have not read books to my children in days. Everything and everyone feels neglected (but that isn't true, my husband stepped up and took care of a lot!! I just feel guilty).
Anyway, I am going to take it one day at a time. I'm here for as long as God needs me, no longer. And while I am praying that he needs me for many more decades, until I meet my grandchildren, until I attend the weddings of my babies and their babies--I am resting content in his plan and his will for my life. God is good. His plan is good. I will be okay, and my babies and my babies babies are in his hands.